What Is Right
by nectere13
Summary: The night before a battle Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley reminisce and try to figure out their relationship, what it means and how they really feel and what brought them to this place from his sixth year and on. AU from mid-HBP.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making money off of this fanfiction.

Author's Note: I love Draco and Ginny. It was my first ship and I've recently come back to it. I hope you all enjoy this story.

Ginny clattered into the apartment with a sigh, shaking rainwater off like an annoyed cat as she pulled the sodden cloak off her shoulders. "It's still gathering," she said, pulling muddy wellingtons from her feet, before even bothering to look up at the aristocratic blond in the room. "Tomorrow there will be fighting."

Draco handed her a chipped teacup, and sneered. "Not just fighting, Potter's coming." He leaned back in the cheap chair he had transfigured into something more comfortable, still managing to look as though it was somehow beneath him to be sitting in it. "I'm sure he'll be _thrilled_ to see you again."

Ginny rolled her eyes at his weak barb, and ignored it in favour of focusing on the tea and letting it warm her chilled hands, at least until his agitation ceased to be somewhat amusing anyway. "He won't be seeing me." She remarked, with a shake of her head. "You know that. We're shadows in battle, you and me."

"Thought maybe you had changed your mind." Draco remarked blandly, as if he couldn't care less. "You know your family is worrying about you, they'd welcome you back with open arms, hell, you might even be able to get into Potter's bed."

Ginny resisted the urge to snort. His suggestions had gotten more and more ridiculous as time went on, as had hers. Still, they were a kind of comfort. If neither of them admitted that they might in some small way _need_ each other, the illusion of being able to walk away, of _choice_ remained intact.

"I like our bed better. The pillow is nice." Ginny said easily, picking up the mismatched china and placing it in the sink.

The sneer that followed was so full of relief it could hardly be called one. "Should have known a Weasley would consider this kind of living luxury."

Ginny just hummed thoughtfully.

Later that night Ginny's head was bent over parchment in that very bed as she wrote in tiny cramped letters, as though she had to fit as much as she could into the sheets. Almost mindlessly her other hand drew runes thoughtlessly on Draco's bare chest, which he tolerated for almost an hour, before turning on his side to look at her, crossly. "Is there a _reason_ you are tracing runic wards on my skin?"

"Hmmm?" Ginny hummed in reply, in a very good imitation of Hermione Granger in the midst of writing an essay. She finished her sentence and glanced up at him through dark brown eyes. "Nothing...I just...have a feeling about tomorrow. I thought maybe if I wrote everything out, it would make more sense."

Draco arched a pale eyebrow at her. "If sabotaging Death Eater plans, stringing up Snatchers and railroading muggleborns doesn't make sense to you, why have you been doing it for the last year?"

Ginny rolled chocolate eyes at him. "Not that, _us._" She waved her left hand at him, as if he needed an illustration, the light from the stove catching a glint of white gold.

"Oh." Draco said, blinking. "That." He cleared his throat and sat back up. "Take your pick. We needed a cover. It broke you from your mother's clock. When all this is over, they can't make us talk about what the other's done." He repeated the stories with ease.

They were cold words, logical, and had long been a comfort to both of them. This time, however, they did not satisfy the redhead. "Do you really think those theories really explain it all?" She gestured with the hand full of parchment around them. The flat was like many others they had taken since they had left Hogwarts, but it wasn't the flat she meant. It was her slippers next to his by the small woodstove, the graffiti of her nails left on his chest and back, the way he picked up her discarded cloak and hung it by his so it wouldn't wrinkle. She threw the sheets of crowded parchment at him, an account of their adventures since he had caught her outside the Astronomy Tower in fifth year. "Do they explain all of _this?_" Her voice went high and shrill and she threw the sheaf of parchment at him and stomped off toward the little bathroom with the rusty water.

Draco sighed and picked up one of the pages at random, beginning to read.


End file.
